


1-Path Challenge

by CountvonKit



Series: 1PathChallenge [1]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: 1PathChallenge, Flash Fic, Flash Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountvonKit/pseuds/CountvonKit
Summary: 1PathChallenge - An Octopath Flash Fiction Challenge.Each day throughout the month of January, a new installment shall be posted to this series revolving around one character, be they protagonist, antagonist, or NPCs. The world of Osterra is ever-expanding.Flash Fiction is as it is, a method of writing as quickly as one can, with a minimal of 1K words or greater, with absolutely no editing involved. These are meant to be challenges to help overcome writer's block. "No think, only write."Only after the month-long challenge is over may the participants then go back in and edit their works. For more information, please refer to the pinned post on my Twitter ( @ countvonkit ).
Series: 1PathChallenge [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588684
Kudos: 9





	1. Day 1 - Fishing

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - Fishing  
> Featuring: Alfyn Greengrass

“Ah, here we are!” Came a voice.

Setting down his pole, the man ran his fingers through his honey colored hair. His name was Alfyn Greengrass, and he was an apothecary who had set out from the quaint town of Clearbrook. By doing so, he hoped to live up to his dreams and give a brighter outlook towards the future of those who fell ill and could not afford the help of medicine. That, at least, was his hope.

He sat down in the grass, threading his pole and humming a tune to himself, all while chewing on a piece of straw. It hadn’t been all that long since he left home, but already his travels had brought him through twists and turns, landing him now somewhere between Clearbrook and Saintsbridge. Looking up, he cast a glance over the crystal clear water, the corner of his lips turning to a grin. The beauty of the Riverlands knew no bounds, and it was a sight Alfyn would never grow tired of seeing – watching the sun start to sink beneath the trees.

“Well, I guess if I’m going to catch me some dinner, I might as well do it now before it’s too late to see anything.”

Rolling up his sleeves, he then picked up the fishing pole and cast the line out into the water.

Rumors from his home town had said that the rivers were blessed with thanks to Saintsbridge, but he never cared much for what was and wasn’t blessed. Whether or not those stories held up, well… That was something he was about to find out.

His mind began to race about what he might catch, his eyes crawling up to the warm painted sky as fantasies persisted. A trout would be excellent for dinner and more than enough to fill a single person, but fishing was always a chance in and of itself. Salmon wouldn’t be a horrible option either, provided they were swimming right now.

“Huh?”

Pulled from his daydreams, Alfyn looked to see he had hooked on to something, his luring bobbing frantically in the water from an unknown source of weight.

He smirked, determination flowing through his veins. “Alright, dinner! You’re all mine now!” He shouted, giving one strong pull. 

Falling back, he took the rod with him. When he sat up, he frowned to see it was just a piece of grass from the riverbed, his stomach letting out a disappointed rumble soon after. A laugh then followed as he rested an arm on his leg.

“Shucks. I suppose I can’t get that lucky right off the bat, now can I?” He asked aloud, looking back out to the water’s surface. Even the sound of the river flowing made everything about this place perfect, calming. Alfyn then smiled to himself, taking hold of the rod once more. “Right. I need to focus here. Come on~ dinner!”

Realistically speaking, there were worse things he could’ve caught other than just a piece of waterlogged grass, he thought. Casting back out into the river, he began to hum to himself once more. At least his line didn’t break. That right there was a positive note. He could cast as many times as he wished, and as long as nothing broke he would surely have dinner before he knew it. Alfyn gave a nod to himself at that thought, waiting ever so patiently.

Time passed slowly and peacefully before his lure would bob again.

As he went to pull back to snag the hook, the man couldn’t help but laugh to himself at a thought which passed on by. “If this is another piece of grass, I guess I’m going to be finding out how it tastes steamed.” He let out a grunt as a sudden tug yanked him forward. 

It was no piece of grass.

Alfyn pulled back, digging his feet into the ground. The battle between the two went back and forth for but a few minutes, the young apothecary soon finding himself becoming quite winded. But he wasn’t about to give in. A tasty supper was on the line. Mustering up all the strength he had left, he gave one final pull, delighted to see monstrous trout flopping on the riverbank.

“Woohoo! Alright!” His grin went from ear to ear as he pulled the fish further up onto shore. “Looks like dinner won’t be crispy rivergrass after all!” He gave himself a pat on the back before turning around to set up camp. “I probably should have did this first,” He muttered. “Ah well. At least I got caught something. That trout is going to be so tasty, my mouth is watering just thinking about it!.”

Once the campfire was started and his sleeping bag had been laid out, he turned around to get the fish. The question he had for himself was how should he clean it? Fillets? Steaks? Rough it out and just eat it off a stick?

“Hm?”

His eyes combed about the area as he drew up a hand to scratch at the back of his head. 

“Well that’s odd.”

The fish had been there not all that long ago, so there was no way it had flopped its way back down into the water. At least, not without making some commotion. His stomach let out a rumble as he placed both his hands on it, as if to silence the beast. 

“I better find out where it went soon. Especially if I plan on eating tonight.”

As if the gods had been listening to him this whole time, the bushes nearby began to rustle, quick to pull his attention.

“Oh? Do we have a thief among us?” He questioned. “You can’t hide from me, thief! I, Alfyn Greengrass, will get my dinner back! So prepare to be caught!”

Quietly, he approached it before parting the foliage, his eyes falling on a small fox, with some little ones in its company.

“Shucks…” He breathed.

The fox quickly directed her attention at him, fur raising as she let out a growl in warning.

“So you were the thief, were you?” He asked. “How can I be upset about that?” With a smile, he continued. “You were just trying to feed your little ones, yea?” His eyes fell on one of her fore-paws, noticing some dried blood. “And injured too no less. You can’t exactly help your little ones in a condition like that.” He then reached down and picked her up by her scruff, cradling her in his arms. “Alright then. It’s decided. I may be a traveling apothecary, but I never said I treated just people.”

He reached down into his pocket to pull out a small vial of ointment. 

“It’ll sting a little, so be warned.”

As he applied it onto the mark, the small fox bit at his hand, but Alfyn just flinched, letting out a soft hiss. 

“I get it. I’m a stranger to you. You’re scared, and this probably hurts. But don’t worry. It’ll heal up in no time, ok?”

He then sat her back down with the young kits and smiled.

“Consider keeping that fish for you and your family. I’m perfectly capable of catching another one for myself, so no worries. Just be sure to take better care of yourself so you can continue to take care of those around you. Because without you, they’ve no one to learn from, right?” 

With another smile, Alfyn let them be, returning back towards where he made camp and taking hold of his fishing pole. 

As the night passed on, he managed to succeed in catching another fish for himself. Though smaller than the last, he could have cared less. What mattered most was that he was able to eat, and he would have the strength tomorrow to push forward on his journey across Osterra. He cleaned it, cooked it, and then allowed the late night hours to carry him through slumber with a stomach filled with warm, delicious food. 

When he woke the next day, however, he found the family of foxes had curled up next to him. Smile formed on his face as he laid there quietly, watching them, feeling a special warmth swell in his chest. 

“Shucks…”

If the days ahead were filled with memories like these, he thought, then that alone was payment enough. After all, he cared little for money. The only reward he wanted was gratitude, and thanks.


	2. Day 2 - Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1PathChallenge - An Octopath Flash Fiction Challenge.  
> Each day throughout the month of January, a new installment shall be posted to this series revolving around one character, be they protagonist, antagonist, or NPCs. The world of Osterra is ever-expanding.
> 
> Flash Fiction is as it is, a method of writing as quickly as one can, with a minimal of 1K words or greater, with absolutely no editing involved. These are meant to be challenges to help overcome writer's block. "No think, only write."
> 
> Only after the month-long challenge is over may the participants then go back in and edit their works. For more information, please refer to the pinned post on my Twitter ( @ countvonkit ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Ruins  
> Featuring: Tressa Colzione

Drip.

Drop.

Drip, drop.

Water trickled off variously sized stalagmites above, echoing throughout the cave, alongside that of a crackling torch one curious adventurer dared so much to use. For the most part, the area appeared abandoned, save for a bold young girl, and some rumors of great treasure in the ruins of a town that had collapsed many years ago.

“Hm~! I wonder where it could be. Better check the map again.”

The flame held its stance as the girl placed it on a nearby and conveniently placed holder that had been mounted into the smooth, dampened rock walls.

Squinting her eyes, Tressa pulled out an old map, using the torch’s light to look upon it once more.

A mighty capital was what it had been known as back in the days of old. Though its name had since been lost, stories told of grand treasures and riches beyond belief; A greedy Queen and her townsfolk of rich. One of the more common rumor told that she had angered the gods, and so a mighty earthquake fell onto them, dragging their home far beneath the earth’s surface, never to see the light of day. Another went that she held so much gold it had caught the attention of some dragons, so the capital sank after falling victim to their powerful flames. Despite all their riches, no one dared rise to protect them, for Dragons were more mighty than all the armies of Osterra combined.

Another curious hum left from the girl.

Artifacts, gold coins, pristine paintings, forbidden books, carefully crafted jewels and gems; Tressa couldn’t help but wonder just what awaited her should she find this supposed sunken town. She knew it had to exist, otherwise why else would passing pirates speak of it in whisper? No one wanted to give away a good plunder spot – unless your name just so happened to be Captain Leon, who already had all the treasure he could ever care for.

She gave a smile at the thought of him before going back to concentrating.

The map she had, in all actuality, had been given to her by him. Of course, she refused to take it for free. Tressa had been very insistent on giving him money, and buying it from him like the honest merchant she was. He, of course, with his silver tongue and kind heart, insisted she take it if not for the challenge and hunt alone. He said that her own fulfillment was worth its own weight to him. However, if after finding what she sought was not reward enough, she could bring him back something if she wanted. It, of course, was not necessary, but she was still just as determined to find something for the both of them.

“Now let’s see…” Her voice trailed. “I know I came to the right area. The cave outside held all the landmarks, and I’m quite familiar with the Coastlands. That part was easy enough. But navigating this cave… Eheh… That’ll be something else, for sure.” She looked up, glancing her surroundings before folding the map back up and placing it in her pocket. “But if Captain Leon believes in me, then I know for sure I can find it! I just need a little bit of luck.”

Taking hold of the torch, Tressa continued forth, her thoughts drifting back to mere tall tales that followed her here. After all, not all rumors were true! Some were formed just to keep people away, which meant… There had to be treasure here. She just needed to find it, if there was any left.

These mere tales of the sunken capital lost to the passage of time were not to be taken lightly, however. Or so they went. Dangers lurked around every corner, and there was always that chance you were being followed! There were ones who spoke of adventurers and pirates who never returned, search parties never heard from again, and even ones of ghost and dragons!

Ghosts were one things, but if there were dragons… Well, Tressa would easily admit she was unprepared for something like that.

She swallowed hard at this, letting out a nervous laugh.

She didn’t believe in ghosts or vengeful spirits, but she could see how people might believe something like that give how a whole capital fell into the earth as it did. And should there be Dragons, well, she could also find that believable despites these powerful beasts being myths on their own. You’d be considered lucky to come face to face with one, but even more so if you survived escaping it and lived to tell the tale. 

Pausing her stroll, Tressa looked around, casting the torch’s light around her and taking note of the surroundings. The bridge ahead was out, which meant she needed to find another way around. No surprise there, she thought. If it has been intact, that would make things seem all the more suspicious, like walking right into someone’s trap. It was possible the bridge had given out from old age, and that treasure hunters fell to their death in the plunge below. Or…! Someone didn’t want others to find the hordes of riches that remained on the other side! Which meant, there had to be a way around. If there was a bridge there, that obviously meant people had passed to and from. 

Smiling to this thought, Tressa immediately began searching for a way around. If luck were on her side, there should be a path somewhere. She placed her hand on a wall, dragging it along as she pushed deeper into the cave. Maybe there was even a hidden passage!

Her eyes lit up at this.

Everything about her venture so far had been so cool, and she couldn’t wait to write about it later after she returned to town.

But what she hadn’t thought about was the loud rumble that came from behind – a growl from the sound of things that fled her way. As she turned back around to see which direction the cave had carried it from, her foot slipped, and the young girl found herself tumbling on down into the dark, her shriek booming up into the cavern and the darkness swallowing her up whole.


	3. Day 3 - Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1PathChallenge - An Octopath Flash Fiction Challenge.  
> Each day throughout the month of January, a new installment shall be posted to this series revolving around one character, be they protagonist, antagonist, or NPCs. The world of Osterra is ever-expanding.
> 
> Flash Fiction is as it is, a method of writing as quickly as one can, with a minimal of 1K words or greater, with absolutely no editing involved. These are meant to be challenges to help overcome writer's block. "No think, only write."
> 
> Only after the month-long challenge is over may the participants then go back in and edit their works. For more information, please refer to the pinned post on my Twitter ( @ countvonkit ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Danger  
> Featuring: Leon Bastralle

Powerful waves crashed into the shipyard, rocking docked ships with a series of unsettling rolls. From the safety of a nearby tavern, there sat a man with hair kissed by the sun, garnished in layers of light-weight clothing, along with his iconic blue scarf. Beside him sat his spear, not that he needed it should a brawl erupt from nowhere. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, not to mention quick with reflexes.

Taking a sip from his tankard, he then sat it down, his eyes fixing on the rain that battered the windows, and watching lighting race across the sky. The storm was nasty, no doubt. The locals had filled the place up, taking shelter from the merciless winds, and others were most probably merchants who held nothing but complaints. 

Man, oh man, did they have their fair share of complaints…

Leon let out a soft sigh. Why couldn’t they just keep their opinions to themselves? Why come here to drink their pockets empty and bicker about something no one could even control? He took another swig of his spiced rum. Maybe if he drank more, the rum would mute them out.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“Now just hear me out –”

“How are we supposed to make it to the next port in a storm like this?” One would ask.

“At this rate, we’ll be passed the delivery’s deadline… We can’t be sitting around like this, waitin’ on some stupid weather!” Another chimed in, feeling obligated to point out the obvious.

“But we can’t risk damagin’ the ship, mate! Think of the repair costs... Is that really worth riskin’ our lives for? Surely they’ll understand,” a third and more reasonably said.

“And if they don’t? We’ll be out a job! Or worse!”

“…Being?”

“Lost goods? The boss would have our ‘eads! And what if this storm washes up a monster? Or even pirates!”

“That’s a fair point,” Another would sigh. “Pirates be like vultures durin’ times like these, scavengin’ from the weak and dyin’. It’s prime season for ‘em.”

He smirked to this. Not because it was funny, well, ok. Maybe it was, actually. But really it was because these were not any of his concern. After all, he was Leon Bastralle, a pirate known far and wide, with as many tales as there were treasures on his ship. A storm like this…? Ha! He had braved many much worse, and alongside his partner, Baltazar, a man of… questionably equal wits, but more so that of brute force.

Leon let out a soft hum, resting his head into a hand.

Baltazar.

He was opposite of him in so many ways, making them perfect partners, or even enemies at times. He was built much sturdier than him, with shorter hair dark as the raven’s plumage. He never had to worry about the wind pushing someone like him aside, unlike Leon who was more agile, swift, and lean than his partner in crime. Baltazar… did also seem to have a fancy towards canons, and… loudly declaring their presence… In fact, his whole existence was rather loud, if not destructive.

The man frowned to himself, gazing down at his now empty tankard. Thoughts of a second helping lingered. After all, what else was there to do while he waited?

That man was probably out there right this minute, looting sinking ships that dared to face the storm, picking them just as the gossip that filled this very tavern. He let out a soft sigh, leaning into the table.

That damn idiot…

Leon would never dare admit that he was worried about him though. He knew well that he could take care of himself. It was, in fact, something very different that he worried of.

All because he had to trick Leon into thinking they were to meet for drinks earlier that day. Something like that sounded quite nice. In fact, Leon was simply more than happy to spend whatever time he could with him, without the company of their voicestrous crews. It wasn’t very often they had that kind of luxury. Not between plundering ships and combing the vast seas.

Of course, that was before he realized what his friend was up to. Baltazar had tricked him with that cunning offer of his. And he fell for it.

Leon ran his fingers through his hair, irritation lacing his brows. He needed to keep his cool.

Now here he was, staring out the window, in a bar filled with prissy merchants, waiting for his friend to return with his ship. Where was Baltazar anyway? Certainly not in here. And why did he need to use _his_ ship for anyway? Why couldn’t he use his own? Was his not good enough?

This was the last time he dare trust Baltazar with any offer. Why, if he dared so much as to leave a scratch, let alone show up with news of a sunken ship as if nothing were wrong… 

Leon’s eyes drifted towards his spear curiously before focusing back to the window.

No.

He wouldn’t thrust his spear up into his arse. But perhaps something else. Something worse.

Leon smirked again to himself, curious ideas drifting through his head like the gentle summer breezes that the gulls road on.

Now wasn’t the time to think about that, however.

Setting down a coin next to his tankard, Leon then stood up and grabbed hold of his spear. There was no use sitting here in a pile of his thoughts. That wasn’t him. If his friend was out there, with his ship no less, then that too was where he needed to be.

He raced out through the door, leaving the trail of sudden gossips behind and in turn being greeted by the rain battering on down. It wasn’t long before he found himself soaked from head to toe. To think that this all could have been avoided had Baltazar not lied to him.

Vision was poor as his gaze scanned around, but he could tell the waters were bad and growing worse. Waves towered high, pummeling down into the stonewalls at the docks. Without a doubt they would require repair at dawn’s approach. Now wasn’t the time for that, however. He needed to locate Baltazar’s ship, and once he had, he would ride it out into the storm. That, at least, was his plan. It was as good as any, and the best he had at this point in time.

He raced towards the docks as fast as he could.

Storms meant nothing, but the thrill of heading off into treacherous waters?

That was where the stories were made, next time they were able to have drinks, that is.

Leon smirked as Baltazar’s ship came into view, quickly climbing aboard with eyes piercing the storm with determination. He began to pull up the anchors and ready the ship, his smile only growing through that wet hair of his.

And all he could shout into the storm as the ship lunged into the open waters was, “Hang on, you damn idiot. Leon Bastralle is on his way!”


	4. Day 4 - Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1PathChallenge - An Octopath Flash Fiction Challenge.  
> Each day throughout the month of January, a new installment shall be posted to this series revolving around one character, be they protagonist, antagonist, or NPCs. The world of Osterra is ever-expanding.
> 
> Flash Fiction is as it is, a method of writing as quickly as one can, with a minimal of 1K words or greater, with absolutely no editing involved. These are meant to be challenges to help overcome writer's block. "No think, only write."
> 
> Only after the month-long challenge is over may the participants then go back in and edit their works. For more information, please refer to the pinned post on my Twitter ( @ countvonkit ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 - Winter  
> Featuring: H'aanit

It was winter in the Woodlands, one of H’aanit’s favorite seasons – and with good reason too. Leaning against a wall, her eyes fixed on the snow that fell poetically on her home village of S’warkii, each piece as quiet as a Linde when on the prowl. The corner of her lips formed a smile to this, thinking back to when her partner were but a clumsy, big-pawed cub. Prey would certainly be much easier to catch now due to the silence this time of year brought, and Linde’s ever-so keen hearing.

Her eyes drifted towards a mound of white fur with spots, hearing the relaxed snores as Linde slept soundly through the early hours on a bed made of bison furs, H’aanit’s smile growing ever more.

A lazy huntress is what she was, H’aanit thought to herself with a laugh. Pampered too, perhaps, but it was not as though she hadn’t earned it. Her partner worked very hard, and continued to do so the longer they worked together as a team.

H’aanit then directed her attention back out the window, growing serious. It was almost time.

She stepped away from the window, proceeding to finish a quick meal that she had made which had been left to cool on a nearby table; stew with bits of potatoes, carrots, and rabbit. Perhaps not what many outside her village would consider breakfast, but it was delicious and filling. It was also a recipe her master had so-proudly taught her after she accused him of being unable to cook. However, she would never let him know it was one of her favorites. The last thing that man needed was another boost to his ego.

Silently, H’aanit shook her head to this while making way towards a basket where she sat the emptied bowl and wooden spoon in. 

Not much longer now, she thought, listening to the winds that howled with bites of frost and cold.

After washing her face and hands, H’aanit then began to braid back her hair and dress appropriately for today’s hunt. 

It was never anything glorious, the hunt, but always taking just what they needed, while giving thanks to those who bowed to the cycle. The village only ever took enough to replenish their stock of food and fur, and whatever remained was considered products of trade which brought about useful coin. Caravans would be packed up neatly and villagers would journey from market to market. S’warkii was a village proud of their crafts, after all.

Fastening the necklace of her parents’ rings, she turned to look at her partner.

“Linde. Thou art letting Master’s bad habits rub off on thou, eh?”

The feline let out a loud yawn, rolling over on her back.

“Cometh now. Up with thou.”

With little to no effort, the beast forced herself up, drawing out time as much as she possibly could with a lengthy stretch.

H’aanit couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh before placing a hand firm on her hip. “Cometh now. Do not giveth me that. Thou foolest no one with the snow fall outside.”

Turning around, she went to reach for her bow and arrows, along with her axe. Hunters and Huntresses were trained with both at a young age there in S’warkii. A bow and arrow combined was sharp and swift, able to immobilize and often times stagger the prey, but the axe was best for throwing with brute strength to deal heavy damage and often times knock its target over. The bow was best for stealth, while the axe was best for a full-force ambush. H’aanit personally favored both.

Her hand fell on the door’s handle, looking again to her feline friend who stared back with curious eyes.

“We are off to retrieve Master now, Linde.” 

As she opened the door, there sat Hägen, his tail slowly giving a wag.

“Ah. Hagen. I expecteth not to seeth ye here. That can meaneth but one thing…”

The direwolf gave a soft whimper, looking up as though it were pleading. Not because he was cold and wanted inside, but because he knew that of all the people his master, Z'aanta, would listen to, it was H’aanit, his star pupil and essentially adopted daughter. Not that she'd ever give him that kind of credit.

She frowned to herself, staring back to the canine and allowing a small fit of silence to pass between them before she sighed and shook her head.

Just from Hägen’s behavior alone, she could already tell what the problem at hand was - one of her master's greatest flaws and weaknesses; alcohol. To think a man of immense talent and the village’s best hunter known throughout Osterra, brought down so easily by something like that – if not alcohol, then surely a gamble of who was the greatest, a test of talent. But H’aanit would put a stop to that before his stories dragged on for too long. His coin pouch would be empty if not for her.

"The Tavern it is, I supposeth."

Hägen gave a nod as Linde stepped outside and H'aanit closed the door. She turned around to take one look at the freshly fallen snow before forcing another sigh. She would have to admire everything later. The hunt was of importance. But before the hunt, she needed Z’aanta. 

The path to the tavern was short, not that distance mattered as she placed her hand on the handle of her axe. All she needed was to drag her master out of there, and he’d sober up in no time – just in time for the village’s hunt. 

Z’aanta had probably got caught up there last night, telling stories of hunting dragons and other tales to inspire the next line of hunters. Though his reasons were noble, she knew all too well how he got.

She stood before the tavern door, letting out a sigh before shoving it open with a force greater than a hurricane’s. Everyone there except for Z’aanta jumped in surprise, even as she reached for her axe, throwing it across the room and right at her master’s tankard, shattering it.

He stared at the handle held in his grip, blinking before looking to the doorway.

“Ah! There’s my number one pupil!”

“Master Z’aanta, it’s time!”

He frowned. “Mayeth I have just one more drink?” His voice fell sweet, giving a gesture as though asking for but a tiny drop.

“Do not maketh me drag ye out by the ear…”

The man shrank to the threat, twiddling his fingers the more pressure H’aanit put down into her intimidating stare. When he finally gave in, he let out a sigh and stood, dusting the crumbs off from his pants.

“Fine, fine,” He grumbled. “Can I at least asketh thou to gather the others?”

H’aanit gave a leery gaze back her master’s way. “If I returneth and findest ye still here…”

Z’aanta let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of my head. 

She looked back to Hagen. “Thou shalt stayeth here and keep an eye on him? Let him not touch another drink.”

Hägen gave a nod, confirming his action before walking to Z’aanta’s side.

“Ye have my thanks, friend,” She said with a nod, turning around. With that, she left her trust with the direwolf, heading back out into the winter lands to do her master’s bidding. And when she returned, only then would the true hunt begin.


End file.
